Night Mare

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  Colt’s mother explodes. So does Colt. They shout, but their words bang into each other, so I can’t tell what they’re saying. Finally Mrs. Stevens starts the engine and backs the car away from Bullet. She drives off faster than she came.

  Without looking back at us, Colt lets out a “Yee-haw!” Then he gallops away on Bullet.

  I want to go after him. To help. To do something.

  Only now I know a secret. I know that sometimes all you can do is pray. And that’s enough. That’s plenty, in fact. Because even if I can’t be with Colt now, God is.

  God, please help Colt know You’re there with him. Let him be okay.

  15

  Double

  “Back to work, riders!” Mr. Harper calls. “Teee-rot!”

  We finish our practice. But we’re all unusually quiet. Even our horses seem to be worried about Colt and Bullet. Misty, Cassie’s pony, balks and refuses to canter. Even easygoing Dusty proves to be a handful for Rashawn. The big horse keeps trying to exit the arena. Several of the kids leave early without bothering to give Mr. Harper an excuse.

  I stick it out until the end of our horsemanship session. Then I cool Spirit down and brush her. I don’t want her to get a chill on the ride back to the Harpers’ stable.

  It’s not until all Mr. Harper’s horses have been loaded into the trailer that I realize I don’t have a ride home. The other horses and riders have left the fairgrounds. Except Larissa. Her driver is here with the trailer, waiting to take Custer’s Darling Delight back to K. C. Stables.

  “You need a lift?” Mr. Harper double-checks the trailer hitch before climbing into his truck. Ashley is already snapping her seat belt next to him.

  There’s not much room in the truck for me. Plus, my house is in the opposite direction. I don’t want Spirit and the other horses to have a longer ride home.

  “I’m good, Mr. Harper. Thanks. And thanks again for letting me ride Spirit.” I back away from the trailer.

  Ashley leans in front of her dad. “Call me, Ellie. We’ll go riding. Or go to a movie or something. Okay?”

  “Deal,” I answer, knowing Ashley would rather go to a movie. And I’d rather ride.

  I wave at them until they’re out of sight. I’m not sure I realized what good friends Ashley and her dad are to me.

  I could call Mom or Dad to come get me. Or I could walk.

  I decide to walk home. I’m not in any hurry to get back. If I had Dream, we’d take off on a long ride together. I hope Grayson realizes what a great horse Dream is. And I hope he stops calling her Jinx.

  I haven’t gotten far when I hear horse’s hooves coming up behind me. The steps are light and sharp. This horse is prancing. I turn around to see who could be following me.

  No way. “Larissa?”

  Custer is high-stepping, getting closer with each hoof beat. The poor horse’s eyes are bulging, and his mouth is open. Slobber drips to the ground as his nostrils flare. This horse has probably never been out on a real road before.

  “What are you doing riding on the street?” I ask Larissa. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Larissa on a horse outside an arena.

  “It’s a free country,” she answers.

  “So where’s Custer’s trailer?” I glance behind her and see the trailer creeping across the fairgrounds, coming our way.

  “I told my driver to follow me,” Larissa says.

  I move beside Custer so he won’t run over me. The giant trailer, empty, is now inching up on us. “Why?”

  “I—I thought you might need a ride home,” she answers.

  “That’s okay,” I say. “I’m good.”

  Larissa looks like she just lost the trophy at a horse show. “B-but I knew you rode here double on Bullet. Colt’s gone. You could ride double with me.”

  “On Custer?”

  “Yes.”

  I’m pretty sure Larissa Richland has never let anyone ride her horse, single or double.

  She pats Custer’s narrow rump behind her English saddle. “Please?” she whispers. Her eyes are red, and I think I see tears leaking out. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want you to lose Dream. I know everybody thinks it’s my fault. And they’re right. But I’d never have blogged at all if I’d known you’d lose your horse. You have to believe me. I wish I’d never put up that story.”

  This is a Larissa I don’t know. I’m not sure what to say to this Larissa.

  “Ellie, I know how much you loved Dream. I love to ride. I love to show. But you loved your horse. I can tell the difference. And now because of me, you don’t have her anymore.”

  “It’s not really your fault. It just happened.” The words come out before I have a chance to think about what I’m saying.

  “How can you say that?” she asks. “Everybody else believes I did this on purpose.”

  I think about the way kids have been staying away from Larissa. I guess I’ve been focusing on myself so much I haven’t given that much thought. I’ve blamed her too. “I’m sorry, Larissa.”

  “You’re sorry? I’m sorry! I said it first!”

  “Now that’s the Larissa I know,” I say, grinning.

  Larissa almost laughs.

  I stare at Custer’s Darling Delight, then at Larissa. “So are you going to give me a hand up or not?” I ask.

  She takes her foot out of the stirrup, and I put my foot in to climb up.

  Once I’m on Custer’s back, he seems even taller than he did from the ground. And bonier. Much bonier.

  “You okay back there?” Larissa asks.

  “I’m okay,” I answer. I laugh on the inside because I’ve been saying that a lot lately. I’m okay.

  We ride for a while without talking. Then Larissa says, “How are you making it, Ellie? Without Dream, I mean?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “I asked, didn’t I?” she says.

  So I tell her what I told Colt. “I guess I can stand losing anything—even Dream—as long as I still have God.”

  She turns onto my street. “But don’t you miss Dream?” Larissa asks.

  “I miss Dream so much it hurts,” I admit. “Sometimes I imagine that I see her. She’ll put her head through my window so I can pet her. Or I imagine that she comes galloping up the road to me. It’s so real in my mind, I almost feel like she’s there. Her smell. The sound of her hooves. Her mane flying in the wind.”

  I stop because I’m imagining that scene right this minute, as real as I’ve ever imagined anything. “Like now, for instance. I can almost see my horse galloping toward me—”

  “Ellie, me too!” Larissa cries. “That is Dream!”

  16

  Home

  I blink, then blink again. She’s still there. A gorgeous black-and-white pinto is galloping toward Larissa and me.

  “Dream,” I whisper, because all the breath has gone out of me.

  Dream trots up to us, not stopping until her nose is so close I can feel the warmth of her breath.

  The tiny hairs on my arms stand up. I smell my Dream. I see her. She nickers. She’s real. Really real. And she’s here.

  Reaching down, I half expect her to disappear when I touch her. I stroke her lightning blaze. I scratch her jaw and watch as her eyes close with pleasure. “You’re here, Dream. You came home to me.”

  “How could she?” Larissa asks. I almost forgot that Larissa is here, that I’m sitting on her horse. “You’re not saying your horse came all the way here from Cameron, are you?” Larissa says. “By herself?” She glances around like she’s looking for a trailer. But the only trailer in sight is Larissa’s. And it’s stopped at the corner.

  Then I notice the car in my driveway. It’s the same old car Colt and I saw when we returned home from our trail ride. It’s Mrs. Ford’s car—Annika’s mother, Grayson’s aunt.

  I slide off Custer and manage to swing onto Dream’s bare back. She’s so sweaty that my jeans stick to her. I lean into her neck and hug her.
I inhale my Dream. Even if they take her from me right now, I’m grateful for this second with my horse.

  Mom, Dad, and Ethan come running up. They surround Dream and me.

  “Annika and her mother are here, honey,” Mom says.

  And Grayson, Ethan signs.

  I know Dream will have to leave with them once more. And my heart will break all over again. But it still feels like a gift.

  Grayson’s aunt is talking to him as they make their way up the sidewalk and out to the road. Annika trails along a little behind. When they’re close enough, I strain to hear what they’re saying.

  “I want you to think about this very hard, Grayson,” Mrs. Ford says. “There’s no going back from a thing like this, you hear? So tell me now: do you mean what you’re saying?”

  “Yes! I’ll put it in writing if it makes you feel any better!” Grayson shouts. “I told you a hundred times on the way over here. And Dad says I can do whatever I want.” Grayson kicks at the gravel and scowls at Dream and me. “I mean it!”

  “You mean what?” I ask.

  “I’ve had it with horses. Especially this one.” Grayson points to Dream.

  My mind races through all the ugly possibilities of what it will mean if Grayson rejects Dream. He might turn the horse over to his father. His father could sell Dream or ship her away forever. Or worse.

  “Listen, Grayson,” I begin. “Dream—Jinx—is a wonderful horse. You just have to get to know her . . . again. She’s so willing to learn and full of love. She’ll be a terrific friend if you let her. Maybe I could help. I probably should have gone to Cameron and helped you and Dream—Jinx—get used to each other. Give her another chance. Please!”

  The whole time I’m pleading with him, Grayson scrunches up his face like he’s eaten something rotten. He shakes his head. “No way. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Larissa says. “This pinto is a horse, not a dog, in case you don’t know the difference. And anyway, I’ve seen what Ellie can do with this horse.”

  I’m stunned. Larissa is sticking up for me. And Dream.

  “I know a lot about horse shows,” Larissa continues. “And that pinto could win ribbons for you. You should take Ellie up on her offer. She’s fantastic with horses. Ellie could help you learn—”

  “I don’t want her help,” Grayson snaps. “I’m done with this backyard horse. And that’s final.” He cocks his head toward his cousin, who hasn’t said a word. “I’m giving this nag to Annika.”

  “Well, I’ll be a lop-eared leprechaun,” Mom mutters.

  “Did the boy say he’s giving the horse to his cousin?” Dad asks.

  Mrs. Ford ignores Dad’s question. She squats down and looks her nephew square in the eyes. “I’ll ask you one more time, Grayson. Are you really giving this horse to Annika?”

  “Yeah!” Grayson shouts. “How many times do I have to say it? Get the trailer and haul the beast to your house forever. Or better yet, Annika can ride it back to your house, for all I care. I’m going to wait in the car.” He turns on his heels and stomps to their car, slamming the car door after him.

  I feel as if I could cry and laugh at the same time. “Annika, I’m so happy for you. I know you’ll be good to Dream. She’ll be a great horse for you. And I promise she’ll make a wonderful friend.” I scratch Dream’s neck. “I’ll help in any way I can. I can make you a list of Dream’s favorite foods too. And I’ll print out Winnie the Horse Gentler’s recipes.”

  But Annika is shaking her head.

  Suddenly I feel awkward. Maybe she thinks I’m trying to boss her around or something. She still hasn’t said anything. I have no idea what she’s thinking. Maybe she’s not really interested in horses after all. Maybe she doesn’t even want a horse.

  “Look, Annika, I’m sorry. You don’t have to make treats for Dream. I shouldn’t have tried to tell you what to do.”

  “I don’t want to give her treats,” Annika says.

  “Okay.” I want to ask her why. Dream loves treats. Would it be such a big deal to make something your horse loves?

  “That’s not very nice,” Larissa says. “Ellie knows some great recipes for horse treats. The least you could do is—”

  “I don’t want to give Dream treats,” Annika explains, “because Ellie should give her treats.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say.

  “You should give Dream the treats because she’s your horse,” Annika says. “She always was. Grayson just didn’t know it.”

  I stare at her. I can’t speak. I’m afraid to say anything. Maybe I imagined what Annika said.

  Annika’s mother brushes a stray hair off her daughter’s forehead. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Look at her, Mom. That horse belongs to Ellie. And Ellie belongs to her. This is Dream’s real home.” She grins at me. “Besides, we don’t really have a backyard. And we all know Ellie’s Dream is a backyard horse.”

  “All right!” Colt hollers.

  I hadn’t even noticed Colt and Bullet standing just across the road. Behind him I spot Colt’s dad leaning against his fancy sports car.

  How long have you been standing there? I sign to Colt.

  Long enough, Colt answers. “Welcome home, Dream!”

  Mom and Dad are falling all over themselves thanking Annika and her mother.

  “Come on, Colt!” his dad shouts.

  “I gotta go,” Colt says. He looks from me to Ethan and back again. “So this must be one of those miracles you guys talk about, right?”

  “Sure feels like one to me,” I answer.

  Colt nods and rides to his dad. Then, without turning back to us, he signs, Thank you. At least that’s what I think he signs.

  “Ethan?” I ask. “What was Colt thanking us for? Or did I get the sign wrong?”

  Ethan’s grin takes up half his face. You got the sign right. But it wasn’t for us, Ellie.

  I start to ask him what he means. But then I get it. Colt was thanking God.

  Talk about miracles. . . .

  Larissa and Custer’s Darling Delight leave in the K. C. Stables trailer. Annika’s mom drives off with Grayson and Annika after Annika promises to come and visit Dream and me this summer. Mom, Dad, and Ethan run to Crazy Larry’s to pick up a cake to celebrate Dream’s homecoming.

  And that leaves Dream and me alone.

  But not alone. Because if I’ve learned anything, I know this—I will never be alone again.

  If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. . . . But even if he doesn’t . . . we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.

  Daniel 3:17-18

  Horse Talk!

  Bay—A reddish-brown color for a horse. A bay horse usually has a black mane and tail.

  Blaze—A facial marking on a horse (usually a wide, jagged white stripe).

  Canter—A horse’s slow gallop; a more controlled three-beat gait.

  Cutting horse—A horse (usually a quarter horse) bred to separate cows from a herd. Some cutting horses also cut around barrels in barrel racing or compete in Western horse show classes and events.

  English—A style of horseback riding that is often considered more formal and classic than Western style. Riders generally sit on a flat saddle, post (rise from the saddle) on a trot, and hold the reins in both hands.

  Farrier—Someone trained to care for a horse’s hooves. Farriers trim hooves and put shoes on horses, but many also treat leg and tendon problems.

  Flanks—The indented part of a horse’s body between the ribs and the hip. Flanks may be tender to the touch.

  Foreleg—One of a horse’s front legs.

  Forelock—The piece of hair that falls onto a horse’s forehead.

  Gait—The way a horse moves, as in a walk, a trot, a canter, or a gallop.

  Gallop—A horse’s natural and fast running gait. It’s speedier than a lope or a c
anter.

  Gelding—A male horse that has had surgery so he can’t mate and produce foals (baby horses). Geldings often make the calmest riding horses.

  Habit—An outfit for horseback riding or showing, usually including some kind of tailored jacket and hat.

  Halter—The basic headgear worn by a horse so the handler can lead the animal with a rope.

  Hand—The unit for measuring a horse’s height from the withers (area between the shoulders) to the ground. One hand equals four inches (about the width of an average cowboy’s hand).

  Hindquarters—The back end of a horse, where much of a horse’s power comes from.

  Hoof pick—A hooked tool, usually made of metal, for cleaning packed dirt, stones, and gunk from the underside of a horse’s hoof.

  Hunter—A horse that’s bred to carry a rider over jumps. In a horse show, hunters are judged on jumping ability and style.

  Lead rope—A length of rope with a metal snap that attaches to a horse’s halter.

  Lope—The Western term for canter. The lope is usually smooth and slower than the canter of a horse ridden English.

  Mare—A female horse over the age of four, or any female horse that has given birth.

  Muzzle—The soft portion of a horse’s nose between the nostrils and the upper lip.

  Nicker—A soft, friendly sound made by horses, usually to greet other horses or trusted humans.

  Palomino—A horse that is cream or yellow-gold in color. Palominos may be found in a number of breeds, such as the quarter horse. Even backyard horses may be palominos.

  Pinto—Any horse with patches or spots of white and another color, usually brown or black.

  Post—To rise up and ease back down in the saddle when the horse is at a trot. This makes the gait more comfortable for the rider. English-style riders generally post at every step.

  Quarter horse—An American horse breed named because it’s the fastest horse for a quarter-mile distance. Quarter horses are strong and are often used for ranch work. They’re good-natured and easygoing.

  Quirt—A Western-style crop, or whip, with a short handle.